


Space Used to Be Cool

by readingbylamplight



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, James "Rhodey" Rhodes Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Pepper Potts, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker as Morgan Stark's Parental Figure, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pregnancy, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Peter Parker, So Much Grieving, Survivor Guilt, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Unplanned Pregnancy, Worried May Parker (Spider-Man), just warning you now, y'all this is going to be sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readingbylamplight/pseuds/readingbylamplight
Summary: Peter shut his eyes and began to count the minutes till he was on Earth again.The minutes dragged into hours, the hours into days, the engines gave out, the life support monitors starting displaying how little oxygen they had left, and they rationed out what food there was to make it last as long as possible.The days turned into weeks, their momentum carried them towards Earth, and Peter kept counting; just like Tony had told him too before he-Before he left.He left.He tried not to think about the leaving. Did May leave? Ned? MJ? Pepper? Happy? Rhodey?What if he was the only one left?(In which Peter Parker leaves Titan, but Tony Stark does not)





	1. Chapter 1

You learn something new every day.

 

Peter had lived through the Battle of New York. He could remember the moment when the Principal of his elementary school opened the door of his classroom and told the teacher that they were under attack. 

 

He could remember the teachers huddled around a TV in the corner of gym, standing behind them and watching, terrified, as Ironman carried the missile up through the wormhole.

 

_ “Come back,”  _ He had whispered, as that horrible silence fell across the room, everyone on the edge of their seat,  _ “Come back.” _

 

The world watched the aliens that were attacking the city fall first, seemingly hit by some unknown force, before a flash of red and gold fell back through. New York was safe, Tony Stark had survived.

 

They had won.

 

After the craziness and the chaos that came with the knowledge that they weren’t alone in the universe, people found it comforting to assume that they would always win.

 

They did, for a while, and despite the fact that the wins were stained with blood and body counts they continued to give people hope. Stability. Safety. They didn’t have to look at the stars with fear in their hearts anymore.

 

You learn something new every day. 

 

Luck will run out eventually. Something will come along that you can’t beat.

 

Someday the heroes will stop winning. 

 

Someday they’ll lose, not just the battle. They’ll lose it all.

 

And someday? Someday was today.

 

. . .

 

He used to love the stars.

 

There was something so beautiful about them, something holy. Guiding lights in the sky, studied and looked upon by all of humanity, both past and present. 

 

Space was nothing like he thought it was. It was deadly, an unholy land, a place where shadows roamed; ready to kill you. It was fear, it was Death itself; ready to steal you away from existence. 

 

Peter wished he had never left the ground.

 

If he hadn’t, maybe he would still love the stars. 

 

_ “If you hadn’t _ ,” the traitorous voice in his mind whispered, “ _ maybe Tony would still be alive.” _

 

“Parker,” A hand was on his shoulder then, shaking him, “We have to go now.”

 

How long had he been here, sitting amongst the ash? The sun was setting, casting shadows across Titan’s rocky soil, and a breeze came in from the right. It disturbed the ash, and Nebula tugged at his shoulder until he was far enough away that he wouldn't accidentally breathe it in.

 

“We have to go now,” she said again, turning towards the crashed ship and pointing, “If we’re going to survive, we have to go and get that thing working again.”

 

It took them four days, but they did just that. 

 

And when they found themselves in that unholy land again, the vastness of space, Peter shut his eyes and began to count the minutes till he was on Earth again.

 

The minutes dragged into hours, the hours into days, the engines gave out, the life support monitors starting displaying how little oxygen they had left, and they rationed out what food there was to make it last as long as possible.

 

The days turned into weeks, their momentum carried them towards Earth, and Peter kept counting; just like Tony had told him too before he-

 

Before he left. 

 

He left. 

 

He tried not to think about the leaving. Did May leave? Ned? MJ? Pepper? Happy? Rhodey?

 

What if he was the only one left?

 

What if everyone on Earth was gone?

 

He let out a sob before he could even think to stifle it, and crawled out of the maintenance tube, shaking. The metal floor of the ship was freezing against his exposed arms and hands and he grabbed one of the Guardian’s jacket that he had been using off of the nearby seat; burying his face into it with a muffled scream.

 

_ So cold so cold why was space so cold- _

 

The tears didn’t stop, and he wept into the jacket until he had nothing left to give.

 

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke later to the lights having dimmed to signal that the night cycle had begun. He pulled on the jacket, breathed hot air into his hands to get feeling in them again, and followed the glow of the emergency lights up to his nest in the cockpit.

 

Nebula could stay warm enough on her own, but Peter had struggled with regulating his temperature ever since the spiderbite; and the ship’s heater running on as little power as possible meant that it was more than a little chilly. He had gathered up all the clothes and blankets scattered throughout the ship and did the only thing he could think to do.

 

He made a blanket fort. 

 

What else can you do when you’re adrift in space with no hope of rescue?

 

The fort was simple, the sheets and three of the mattresses from the bunks arranged over and around the pilot and co-pilot chairs; two of the sheets pinned in place to completely enclose it and block out light. Clothing and blankets were piled on the floor inside, and he crawled in, immediately grabbing the diamond-shape patterned blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders.

 

The Iron Spider suit sat crumpled in the corner of the bed, and he reached out, detaching the mask and pulling it over his head.

 

“Karen? You still with me?”

 

There was a silence that seemingly spanned hours, but in reality was barely a second, before Karen’s voice filled the space,  _ “Hello, Peter.” _

 

“Hi, Karen. Power levels?”

_ “Current power levels are at eleven percent.” _

 

He nodded and lay down, pulling another blanket into place and shutting his eyes.

 

“Karen, begin Lullaby Sequence and follow shutdown protocol.”

_ “Understood. Goodnight, Peter.” _

“Goodnight, Karen.”

 

. . .

 

_ “Hey Peter, would you mind picking up some orange juice after patrol? Thanks! Stay safe and I love you.” _

 

_ “So I talked to your Aunt, I’ll pick you up from school on Friday and you’ll be at the Tower all weekend. Thinking we’ll make some upgrades to the suit.” _

 

_ “Hi, Peter, it’s Pepper. Don’t forget that I’m taking you shopping for that trip tomorrow after school, okay? I’ll text you when we get close to the school. See you then!” _

 

_ “Dum-E misses you, you should come by once you’re done with patrol.” _

 

_ “You’ve had my book for over a year, Parker. You ever going to return it or are you waiting till I forget? Also, Mr. Bradley is doing a pop quiz tomorrow; don’t ask how I know. See you tomorrow, bring my book.” _

 

_ “I’m so proud of you, and I know Ben is too.” _

 

_ “Dude I still can’t believe that Tony Stark is letting you bring me with you to the lab, this is crazy. Can’t wait!" _

 

_ “You did good today, buddy. I’m proud of you.” _

 

. . .

 

He kept counting, the days kept passing, and the oxygen levels were still dropping. 

 

They had tried pretty much everything, even hooking up the Iron Spider suit to the life support systems to pull the oxygen reserves from it, but it wasn’t enough. There was too much damage and not enough supplies. 

 

They could only hope and pray for a rescue, but they both knew it wasn't coming. No one knew where they were, or if they were even alive, and if they  _ were _ receiving the distress call; they weren’t answering. 

The days passed in routine, the end looming over their heads with the countdown on the wall. 

 

“Karen, power levels?”

_ “Nine percent.” _

“Begin Lullaby Sequence and shut down.”

_ “Goodnight Peter.” _

“Goodnight Karen.”

 

The food ran out, the water reclaimer finally broke down, four days of oxygen to go. 

 

Four days till the end.

 

He stayed in his blanket fort late into the day cycle, stomach cramping and head pounding, and eventually crawled out to see if Nebula was still alive and to begin the day’s repairs. 

 

Three days till the end.

 

He sat up, late into the night cycle, and watched the oxygen timer count down. He wondered if May was still alive. 

 

The red light of oxygen timer began to blur, exhaustion set in, and he went to bed.

 

“Power levels?”

“ _ Six percent. Would you like me to proceed with the Lullaby Sequence?”  _

“Yes.”

“Goodnight Peter.”

 

His lip trembled and he squeezed his eyes shut against the tears, “Goodnight Karen.”

 

Two days till the end.

 

He found a coin. 

 

Heads for dust, tails for survived. 

 

Peter flipped the coin, over and over again, until it had landed on tails for everyone.

 

Everyone except for Tony. 

 

He didn’t flip the coin for Tony, didn’t want to consider the odds when he already knew the reality.

 

“Power levels?”

_ “Three percent. Would you like me to proceed with the Lullaby Sequence?” _

“Yes.” He felt like he was suffocating, “Goodnight, Karen.”

“Goodnight Peter.”

 

He closed his eyes. 

 

_ “Hey Peter, would you mind picking up some orange juice after patrol? Thanks! Stay safe and I love you!” _

 

One day till the end. 

 

“Power levels?”

_ “Two percent.” _

“Begin recording.”

 

A blue light blinked, “If anyone finds this, can you get it back to Earth? May Parker, Queens, New York, USA. I love you Aunt May, thank you for always being there for me.”

 

The blue light flared red, a warning, “End recording and shut down.” 

 

The light went out, he left the fort. They didn’t do any repairs that day. The oxygen timer continued its countdown.

 

Peter was so hungry he could barely think, barely move. He and Nebula sat in silence for most of the day, at the table in the main room, watching the countdown. 

 

“I’m going to bed,” Peter said, long before the night cycle, and Nebula looked up in concern, “I don’t want to be awake when space kills me, you know?”

 

She nodded, “See you on the other side, Parker.”

 

“See you.”

 

He made the final trip back to the fort, crawled into bed, and grabbed the mask one last time.

 

“Karen, you still with me?”

_ “Hello Peter. Would you like me to begin the Lullaby Sequence?” _

“Yes, please. Goodnight, Karen.”

 

_ Goodbye, Karen. _

 

Silence. 

 

“Karen?”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Nebula closed her eyes as another scream bounced off the walls of the ship.

 

Something collided with the wall in the other room, glass shattering, and she heard Peter punch the wall again and again and again. 

 

He wheezed and coughed for a long time, followed by another scream and the sounds of something being thrown against the window of the cockpit.

 

Over a month on this ship and she had never seen him break. Cry? Yes. Fall silent for days? Yes. But completely and utterly fall apart?

 

Not until now.

 

Something ripped, hit the wall, was slammed onto the ground a half dozen times before it all went silent. 

 

Nebula could not remember her father or her mother, and in that moment she found herself very grateful.

 

Sad, yes, that they had been taken from her, but grateful that she couldn’t remember the pain of losing them. The pain that the boy had been bottling up for weeks. The pain held back by a dam that had finally broken at the loss of the AI who had taken on the role of a mother for a time; rocking him to sleep every night in the only way she could. 

 

Tony Stark had been a good father, from what she had seen, and a far better father than Thanos ever could have been. His death had been as peaceful as it could have been in that situation, and he had spent his final moments comforting his child. 

 

_ “It’ll be okay,”  _ she could recall it in vivid detail, the determined but gentle tone of his voice as he began to fade away,  _ “In the end.” _

 

Peter let out a sob and Nebula took a moment to look at the oxygen meter on the far wall.

 

She quickly wished she hadn’t, and for the first time in her life she found herself hoping that someone’s suffering would not last long

 

. . . 

 

He didn’t feel so good.

 

His chest was tight, the air felt really thin, and he was kinda wishing that he hadn’t destroyed the blanket fort. At least with that he could die comfortably, instead of being slumped against the co-pilot chair; the cold metal pressing into his back through his shirt.

 

The suit was in the corner, ripped, bloodied, covered in ash- _ Tony’s ash why did his ash stay why wouldn’t it just leave him alone to grieve- _ and a part of him wished that it wouldn’t be one of the last things he saw.

 

He was drifting, fading in and out of consciousness, and the only thoughts he could focus on were whether May would get his body to bury and strangely, the lyrics to Another One Bites the Dust.

 

Which, considering the situation, was so  _ incredibly _ inappropriate.

 

Peter shut his eyes, trying to clear his mind and drift off to sleep. 

 

And he did, for a moment.

 

He woke to a hand combing through his hair, brushing it back from his sweaty forehead, and he sluggishly pushed into the touch.

 

“Go back to sleep, kiddo,” a voice said, a voice so familiar that Peter forced his eyes to open just to see if it was who he thought it was. 

 

“Ben?” He whispered, and the older man smiled warmly.

 

“Hey you,” he laid the back of his hand against Peter’s forehead, “how are you feeling?”

 

“Not great,” a sob caught in his throat, “I’m sorry, Uncle Ben.”

 

“For what?” The hand pushed his curls back again before moving to hold his cheek.

 

“Didn’t save you,” Something in his throat caught at the end and it triggered a coughing fit; Ben pulled him forward a bit, away from the side of the chair so he could hold the boy close and run his free hand over his back.

 

“Not your fault, bud,” He pressed a kiss to Peter’s hair, “You were just a kid, still are.”

 

“But-”

 

He shushed him, “Stop, Peter. No more of that.”

 

There was a long silence, and then Peter leaned back towards the chair again, and Ben let him go. 

 

“I’m tired,” it came out in a wheezing breath, words barely distinguishable, but Ben seemed to understand, “what’ll happen if I fall asleep?”

 

“It’ll be just like every other time.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I am.”

 

“Okay,” he breathed, and Ben ran his thumb over his cheekbone as Peter let his eyes fall shut again, “Okay.”

 

. . .

  
  


He was adrift in the darkness, but it welcomed him.

 

It was more like a warm blanket than a terrifying abyss, and he supposed he didn’t mind it. 

 

Maybe he’d find Tony here?

 

Peter searched the endless darkness for another person, a speck of light,  _ anything _ , for what felt like forever.

 

At some point the abyss began to change, noise filtering in. The sounds of people, of  the kind of noise he associated with the streets of Queens. The sounds of  _ home. _

 

He thought he saw Tony, rounding the corner in the hallway ahead of him. He couldn't really recall when he had left the emptiness and entered the endless halls, but if it meant he found Tony he’d search these hallways for as long as needed. 

 

“Mr. Stark!” He called out, and heard the squeak of his mentor’s expensive shoes as he rounded the corner just ahead.

 

Peter tried to run, but he couldn’t go any faster. 

 

“Mr. Stark!”   
  
There he was, going through a door at the end of the hall. Tony turned, meeting Peter’s eyes, and smiled warmly.

 

“Hey there, Tater-tot. Good day at school?”

 

All the sudden the door was shutting and Tony was on the other side and Peter had a horrible feeling that this was his last and only chance he  _ had to get to the door he had to he had to- _

 

He reached the door, pushed it open, and found himself back on Titan. 

 

This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t even a nightmare. This was a  _ memory _ , as clear as the day it happened and just as horrible. He knew what was coming, and the only thing that was worse was that there was nothing he could do to change the outcome.

 

It was going to play out, and Tony Stark was going to die.

 

“Mr. Stark?” 

 

Tony met his eyes and Peter could tell the instant he realized what was happening, the older man sitting back down on the rock and inviting Peter to sit next to him.

 

He seemed remarkably calm for a man about to die. 

 

“I’m coming back; we’ll find a way and it’ll be okay, in the end. You know that?

 

“I know.”

 

He didn’t know. He didn’t  _ know _ . All he knew was that Tony was falling apart into a million pieces next to him and there was nothing he could do to keep him alive on this horrible planet.

 

“Close your eyes, Pete. Okay?”

 

_ I don’t want you to see this _ , went unsaid, and Peter closed his eyes, feeling Tony’s hand run through his hair once before pulling away.

 

“Count to twenty for me, bud.” 

 

His voice seemed more strained then, and Peter nodded, tears burning behind his closed eyelids.

 

He counted, not to twenty, but to a number far higher just to delay the inevitable.

 

When he opened his eyes, he would be alone, and he wasn’t ready for that. 

 

. . .

 

Peter opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness of the lights above him. 

 

The sounds of people were surrounding him, talking, footsteps, the occasional cough or cry of a baby. His sight blurred with tears, and he tried to blink away the sudden emotion.

 

He wasn’t subtle enough about it, if the hand that cautiously squeezed his shoulder in comfort before retreating was anything to go by. It was Nebula’s, he could tell by the clicks and whirring sounds that followed her; sounds that if not for his enhanced hearing he never would have noticed. He lay there for a long while, just breathing and taking in the beautiful absence of silence. 

 

His chest hurt with every breath, lungs aching and burning with the inhales, and he eventually found the strength to turn his head and look at Nebula.

 

“If this is Heaven, it sucks.” He drew in another deep breath and winced, “I didn’t sign up for eternal chest pain.”

 

She didn’t seem to appreciate his sass, face serious and unchanging, “What  _ are _ you?”

 

“A human?”

 

“The human heart physically cannot continue to beat for _two_ _days_ following a complete loss of oxygen. Tell me the truth, what are you?”

 

“I did  _ what?” _

 

Nebula seemed to realize that he really had no idea what was going on, “After the oxygen ran out, you weren’t breathing, but your heart was still beating. You were alive with no air for thirty-six hours, Peter.”

 

Oh. 

 

Oh that was weird.

 

Peter’s mouth opened and closed for a solid minute as he tried to find words, finally settling on the articulate response of, “Huh?”

 

He should be dead.

 

He should have died  _ days ago.  _

 

“It,” He stammered over his words, sitting up and wincing at the pain in his muscles from the movement, “It has to be a spider thing? I don’t know. I didn’t know that could happen. Nebula, what the-”   
  
The sudden rush of words dragged him into a violent coughing fit, a section of his chest right at the bottom of his lungs feeling as though it was on fire until it was over. Nebula handed him a glass of water from a nearby table, and glared at him when he almost choked from drinking it too quickly.

 

“Whatever it was,” She paused, and her face looked truly pained when she did continue, “I am pleased that you did not suffocate and die.”

 

She gave a sharp nod after that, standing and saying something about telling someone named Brunnhilde that he was awake before she took off towards the door at a brisk pace. 

 

“Are you the one from Earth?”

 

While he had been watching Nebula leave, a small girl had left one of the nearby families and moved to stand in front of him; both hands holding a blanket around her shoulders like a cape.

 

He nodded, and she grinned, “The Valkyrie said that we’re going there and it's going to be our new home.”

 

Valkyrie? They were with the Asgardians? 

 

Before he could think about it any more she grabbed at his hand and pulled until he stood; his free hand clutching at his chest as he hissed at the soreness in it. When he finally caught his breath he noticed that he was in different, clean clothes now, not the filthy shirt and jeans that he couldn't see anywhere around the bed. 

 

“Where are we going?” 

 

“You’ll see.”

 

They slowly worked their way through the crowd, and he felt the chill of the floor on his bare feet as they passed the stairwell up to the bridge and stepped into a room where a dozen or so Asgardian children were huddled around the window. 

 

“Can you lift me up? I can’t see.” 

 

She raised her arms to him and he nodded again, taking a breath to steady himself before lifting her up onto his hip as he got close enough to the window to look out. 

 

There was Earth, off in the distance.

 

“It’s so pretty,” The girl whispered in awe, “King Thor didn’t tell us it was so  _ blue.”  _

 

It looked like an arc reactor from this far away, and in that moment it felt like his heart had been cracked open yet again; far worse than the slowly easing pain in his chest. 

 

“It is,” He felt like he could barely get enough air in his lungs to speak at the sight, but it happened in time, “It’s even prettier up close.” 

 

How he saw things would never be the same as before Titan, he could tell. Ash would no longer make him think of fire. That one shade of blue would continue to reopen the wounds on his heart left by Thanos’ actions.

 

His mentor would follow him, even after death. 

 

“It is?”

 

And maybe someday that would become a comfort to him.

 

“It is.”

 

Because Tony said it would be okay in the end and Peter wanted nothing more than to believe that. 

 

. . .

 

Over the next two days, Peter found himself in the window-room countless times; watching his home planet grow closer. 

 

The room was like a scab he couldn’t stop picking, a rollercoaster of emotions he just couldn’t stay away from. Longing to be home, dreading going back to a changed world, anxiety regarding who would and wouldn’t be there, homesickness, and as always, throughout it all, grief. 

 

He doubted it would go away any time soon, it only seemed to get worse the closer he got to the planet. When he was on the Guardians ship he couldn't think about it much, most of his attention on keeping himself  _ and _ the ship from dying.

 

“We’ll be within radio range in less than an hour, I want you on the comm.” 

 

Peter turned away from the window to where Brunnhilde was standing in the doorway.

 

They had met the day he had woken up, a brief exchange of names before he was taken to get something to eat and she had to rush away to address some issue on the ship. With the presumed deaths of Thor and Loki leaving the throne empty, despite no bodies being found in the wreckage, the Asgardians had chosen her to lead them.

 

If not for Brunnhilde, the Asgardians would be extinct. During Thanos’ attack on their Sakaaran ship, she had gotten as many people as she could into the escape pods, staying till the last moment before leaving on the final one. She had reunited all who were left, stole a ship, and continued on the course to Earth.

 

“Why me?”

 

“If what happened to us happened on Earth, I can only imagine the chaos. They’ll respond better to one of their own.”

 

He nodded, “Okay.”

 

Brunnhilde returned the nod and left him in silence. 

 

And with the silence came the questions he had been avoiding.

 

What would happen when he got home? 

Would May be there? Would Ned? MJ? 

 

They had to be, they just had to.

 

He didn’t know what he’d do if they weren’t.

 

. . .

 

“So, this is Spiderman. I’m alive, surprise!”

 

The joke fell flat, and he stared down at North America with shaking hands.

 

_ Please let there be someone listening please let there be someone listening please please please be alive down there…. _

 

“I’m with a ship of Asgardian refugees, and we’ll be landing at the Avengers Compound upstate.”

 

He clenched his hands into fists in a desperate attempt to stop the shaking, and for a brief moment wished he had his mask to hide his emotions from everyone in the room.

 

“I’ve had a  _ really  _ rough month, so please don’t shoot us out of the sky. Okay?”

 

The silence dragged out for a second, then two, then three, four, and then the speakers crackled and a familiar voice came out of them.

 

“Peter?” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter and would love to know what you thought of it! Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> come hang out on tumblr! thewritingasexual


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